


where's my love (please come home)

by Alaneii, kontent



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (esp if we broke your heart), Angst, Character Death, Dancing, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd's Death, Songfic, anyhow the death is not shown here dw but it is basically what the fic is abt so, author lo says pls comment, every time youre just Real Sad reading this just remember that jason comes back, there is comfort here yes but it is not enough, this is just angst and a family holding each other through tears, this is your warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaneii/pseuds/Alaneii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kontent/pseuds/kontent
Summary: Originally, they had wanted to ask Bruce to play the violin or cello for their little band - they had been missing a player, and they had wanted their dad to join them. (They had never gotten around to asking.)And now they never would.-In a world slightly to the left, Cassandra was adopted earlier, but Jason still died. He leaves behind a space nobody can fill.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain & Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & his family
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55





	where's my love (please come home)

**Author's Note:**

> I, Logan/alaneii, would just like to apologize in advance,
> 
> But also, we spent a lot of effort and care on this fic!! We started it months ago and put it aside to work on our multichap together but since we only had a bit left, we are releasing it now. 
> 
> Also, as this is a songfic, there is of course a song to match!  
> The song you can read here can be listened to at the link below, or you can find it where you listen to music! Just search this, and enjoy:
> 
> SYML feat. Lily Kershaw - Where's My Love [French version]  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIeGWM8nNzA
> 
> -
> 
> Hi! I, kontent, would like to add that we both tried to write a summary, but even writing the SUMMARY made us cry, so you have been warned.  
> Also, consider: one of us deadass wrote "A casual AU oneshot about Jason's death (there is a high chance of tears)" as a summary and that says everything about the fic. 
> 
> Also, I hope you do enjoy it! Sometimes reading a sad fic can be really good. We just so excessively warned because we don't want anyone to go into this without knowing what they are getting themselves into.  
> Also, fuck the whole _Dick wasn't there for the funeral_ plot.
> 
> -
> 
> anyhow lyrics for the whole song are the first thing, we did end up changing the pronouns during the fic itself but that's the only difference, pls enjoy
> 
> \- 
> 
> last thing! but not least at all! **thank you to our lovely beta Daria!** you really made this the fic it is now, and we love you for that! ❤︎

**"Where's My Love (French Version)"**

(feat. Lily Kershaw)

_Os froids..._

_C'est mon amour_

_Elle disparait comme une ombre_

_Does she know that we bleed the same?_

_Don't wanna cry but I break that way_

_Draps froids..._

_Où est mon amour?_

_Je scrute les étoiles, des profondeurs dans la nuit_

_Does she know that we bleed the same?_

_Don't wanna cry but I break that way_

_Mais s'est-elle enfuit?_

_Où s'est-elle enfuit?_

_Où est-elle?_

_If she ran away, if she ran away, come back home_

_Just come home_

_J'ai l'angoisse dans les veines_

_Qu'elle soit emportée dans les nuages, dans les cieux_

_If you bled I bleed the same_

_If you're scared I'm on my way_

_Did you run away?_

_Did you run away?_

_I don't need to know_

_But if you ran away, if you ran away, come back home_

_Just come home_

* * *

Jason had a favorite room in the manor. It was a sizable room, one that felt even larger due to the lack of furniture. Aside from a piano in the corner and a few chairs against an adjoining wall, the space was open. Cass used it to dance. Bruce had offered to install mirrors along the wall, but they hadn't done that yet. (They didn't know that they never would.)

Jason had loved the room, a fact that all the inhabitants of the manor knew. His joy could regularly be heard echoing off of the walls, whether he was spinning around with Bruce, as they sang and danced to his favorite musicals, learning piano from Dick, or spending time with Cass as they taught each other different ways to dance.

The room wouldn’t feel like that ever again.

When they came home after the funeral, they all stopped in the hallway, unsure where to go now. What to do now. Cass slipped her hand in Bruce's, hesitantly tugging him along. Dick followed them, for once painfully silent. Bruce hadn't seen Dick this silent in years — not since he had taken him in, not since that night where his parents fell to their deaths. 

Cass had always been quiet, and between her, Dick, and Bruce’s own silence the manor felt unbearable. Like something had swept in and stolen their voices, and all the sounds that had made the manor feel like home.

Cass led the way to the studio room. Bruce followed his daughter and thought of his youngest child, now gone forever.

Jason had been standoffish when Cass first came to the manor, similar to when he had first arrived himself. He had told Bruce once that if he had to get another sibling, it should've been someone younger. He didn’t want to be the youngest again, he wanted to be a big sibling now — but Cass had won him over. She had been the big sister Jason hadn’t even known he needed, and he had, unknowingly, been exactly the little brother Cass had been missing.

Bruce had loved seeing his youngest son and his daughter grow, come together, and form a bond. It gave him hope that things could work alright. That he could fix everything that had gone down with Dick, that he and his son could try to be a family again. It reassured him that yes, he'd made the right choice to adopt all these children. It had made him happy. Simple as that. Beyond belief, it had made him happy. 

Jason wasn't the loud one of the family, but without him, the manor had changed. The halls echoed silence into the emptiness. There were no squeaking shoes or sliding children. No barked laughs. No bright stories from Dick. Even Cass, who seemed so quiet in general, was noticeably different. Even with people inside, the manor was empty. And it was quiet. It was quiet in the way it had been when Bruce's parents had died. It was hollowed out, some part ripped away in a way that was impossible to avoid or forget.

They got to the studio. To Jason’s favorite room. 

Dick sat down at the piano automatically, looking up as Cass lightly tapped the paper in front of him. It was a song he knew well now. Jason had heard it and liked it, so they were learning it for him — his sister dancing, and Dick singing while playing the piano. Originally, they had wanted to ask Bruce to play the violin or cello for them — they'd been missing a player, and had wanted their dad to join them — but they'd never gotten around to it, and now it was too late.   
  


[ **_start music_ ** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIeGWM8nNzA)

With a deep breath, Dick’s fingers found the first few keys of the song. The melody filled the room, swirling through the air, and it almost felt like it bent around the imprint of Jason, the missing piece in the room.

The song started out in French, and his voice almost gave out on him.

_ Os froids... _

_ C'est mon amour _

_ Il disparaît comme une ombre _

He sang, and Cass danced. Her movement was light, but it felt like something was halting the motion, some unseen resistance dragging against her like she was dancing underwater. She shut her eyes, and for a second it felt like the space was  _ not _ empty, like he was right there with them. The plan had been to gift this song to Jason. To bring him here, for Dick to play, for Cass to lead him through the dance. She should've been there with her brother, their hands interwoven, melody pushing them together and pulling them apart. 

Now Cass was dancing alone; her hands reached out, finding only air where she should've been grasping her brother’s wrists.

She should have been guiding her brother through it, listening to his soft laughter. (She had wanted to guide him through so many things. She had wanted for him to experience all the things he had missed out on as a child, she wanted for both of them to be allowed to feel like the children they had never truly been. But she would never get to do that.)

_ Does he know that we bleed the same? _

_ Don't wanna cry but I break that way _

The song was originally just supposed to be something Jason would like the sound of, something he would enjoy dancing to. But Dick felt as if he was singing  _ to _ his brother, now that… now that he was gone. So he worked to keep his voice steady and changed the pronouns to fit. 

If this was the last thing he did for Jason, it would be as perfect as he could make it. 

It could be perfect and still break his heart.

Dick heaved out a breath and let his grief spill over, aching with the pain of longing for his brother. Through it all, he kept his fingers on the keys, the melody carrying through the whole ballroom, even as the tears found their way down his cheeks, tracing burning paths into his skin. 

He didn’t know how to live with this. He had already lost his parents. He didn’t know how to cope with losing his little brother too. Jason should be  _ here _ . He should be dancing with Cass, twirling just because he could, laughing because life was good. 

  
His little brother should be here. But he wasn’t.

Dick kept playing as the music continued and his singing paused. He was grateful for the slight break. The tears were making it hard to keep his voice clear. They fell, and they surely were landing on his hands, on the keys, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

The chords were becoming unreadable through his swimming eyes, so Dick closed them. He'd practiced this so often that he didn't need to see the keys, and he couldn't bear to keep looking at the spot that was supposed to be filled by his brother. He could play with his eyes closed. He could pretend.

He had played this song so many times — he had wanted it to be perfect for Jason. And now he would never hear it. 

Dick hadn't wanted a brother, at first. Hadn't wanted a sister when Cass came along either, not really, but he had decided to try for her. That was because of Jason. Because Jason had shown him it could be worth it. 

Because Jason had given him a family, again, when Dick had feared that he and Bruce would never find their way back together.

_ Draps froids... _

_ Où est mon amour? _

_ Je scrute les étoiles, des profondeurs dans la nuit _

Cass twirled in circle after circle as Dick sang in French, crossing the room carefully balanced on her toes. She let herself remember teaching Jason this exact move, let herself remember his wobbling first tries, and his bright smile the first time he'd gotten it right. She sank to the floor, pressing her hands against the wall, looking for comfort where she couldn't find any.

The next part would have been her dancing with Jason, leading him in circles, spinning him until he was laughing, loud and unashamed. She didn’t know how to do this part without him. She didn’t  _ want _ to do this part without him. Didn't want to learn what it would be like.

_ Does he know that we bleed the same? _

_ Don't wanna cry but I break that way _

She decided not to dance it, choosing instead to wrap herself in a hug, swaying like they had been doing after the last gala, still dressed in their fancy clothes, tired and alive with the knowledge of having eaten too much cake. 

When she looked up, Dick’s head was bowed over the piano, but his hands were strong, the melody pouring out like he couldn’t stop himself. Bruce was standing there, watching them with his heart all out in the open. Fixated, just like they were, on the empty space that Jason should have filled.

_ Mais s'est-il enfuit? _

_ Où s'est-il enfuit? _

_ Où est-il? _

_ If he ran away, if he ran away, come back home _

_ Just come home _

Cassandra saw tears roll down her father's face. She made no mention of them, knowing they were mirrored on her brother's face. Hiding behind her hands, letting the music wash over her, she found her own face similarly stained. She hadn't even known she was crying.

It happened so rarely. She had lived a life where crying was a sign of defeat, of not being good enough. But Jason had taught her that crying didn’t have to be that. Cass knew he had been like her — hiding the tears, choking them down, when he was younger. But he had learned. To cry, to be hurt, to be not-just-angry. To be vulnerable, and know he'd still be safe.

She remembered the first time he had let her see him mad, sitting in a corner with tear-stained cheeks, curled into a hoodie he had stolen from Dick. Jason had let her in, and she… she had had a brother. 

She had learned about protection. Both the comforting warmth of being protected, and the roaring, blazing urge to safeguard someone else (god, that— that didn't happen, she failed, she—).

She had learned about the love you could have for someone. About being willing to do  _ everything _ for someone. The fact that sometimes, you didn't get that chance. 

Jason had taught her, yes. To cry, to love, to  _ be _ loved. To work through a relationship until it was better. To try at something that hurt you, more than pain, somewhere deep inside, and not give up. He had been her brother. Through anger and tears and misunderstandings and love, he had been her brother. 

He had made her different. And she hoped… she hoped she had made him a little different, too. She hoped she had helped change him and his life for the better. 

It had been a short life. It deserved to be good. 

(It deserved to be longer, it deserved to be perfect,  _ Jason  _ deserved better than what he had lived. But Cass couldn't change anything now. She would have to settle for good. It had to be enough.)

Jason was many things. But Jason was a brother. To Dick, to Cass… Jason was a brother. And that was what they had lost. 

_ J'ai l'angoisse dans les veines _

_ Qu'il soit emportée dans les nuages, dans les cieux _

Bruce had been in the doorway for a bit now, standing as still as a statue. (Jason had always taken that as a challenge.) 

Alfred’s appearance beside him gave him impetus to move, though, and so he slowly walked inside, no movement save for the careful steps and shaking hands, and took a seat at the wall. 

Alfred stayed in the doorway. 

_ If you bled I bleed the same _

_ If you're scared I'm on my way _

He had bled so much. 

He must have been so scared.

_ Did you run away? _

_ Did you run away? _

_ I don't need to know _

_ But if you ran away, if you ran away, come back home _

_ Just come home _

Cass swept low with the music. Dick couldn't stop crying.

The music stopped. Cass kept dancing, but Dick's fingers were held in the air above the keyboard. 

They didn’t shake, not even a little bit. 

The rest of Dick, by counterpoint, trembled like a leaf in the wind, silent and fragile.

Bruce pulled away from the wall, rising to his feet once more. Cass’s movement flagged, her body slowly running out of energy. 

He did not see it coming, but something still spurred him into motion, driven by a parental instinct, and he caught Cass just in time, wrapping her in his arms right as her knees began to buckle. She curled into his chest immediately, hot tears soaking through his shirt within seconds. She didn’t make a single sound. 

Bruce motioned Alfred over without even glancing up. He pressed a gentle kiss into Cass’ hair, letting her dig her fingers into his arms, bruising the skin. 

He didn’t bother to wipe away his tears.

Alfred was thankful Bruce hadn’t looked at him. He didn't want his son to see the tears streaming down his face. 

He had never thought he would have children, and he could have never dreamt of having grandchildren, but here they were; two of them, two where once there had been three, grieving for the brother they'd just buried. 

Alfred had buried his brothers, too, a long time ago; it had left an aching wound in his soul, even after all these years. 

And yet. He had lost brothers, but they had been grown. Men who had lived short lives, perhaps, but lives nonetheless.  _ Full _ lives, in spite of their regrettable brevity.

The child they had buried today had not had any of that. 

Jason hadn't even had a real childhood, and now he would never get to grow up. 

Alfred rested a careful hand on Dick’s shoulder. It shook under his touch, like it had many, many years ago after another nightmare of falling. The Dick that looked up at him, eyes like pools spilling over, looked just as lost as that little boy from years ago. 

Alfred didn’t say anything. There wasn't anything  _ to _ say, nothing that could lessen the pain of losing Jason. All he could offer was his presence, and a hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded. Not enough, of course,  _ never _ enough, in the face of their shared tragedy, but when Dick's hand snaked up, just for a moment, to cover Alfred's and return his squeeze, he thought perhaps his eldest understood. 

When Dick rose from the stool and staggered blindly to his father, he kept Alfred's hand clutched tight in his.

Bruce hugged his children, those of whom he could hug, and from his place at his son's side, anchored by the hand still in his grandson's grip, Alfred did the same. 

The sun was near setting by the time they finally made their soggy, tearstained way out of the studio. No one objected, when Alfred locked up the door behind them. They would not be returning to this room.

It was no longer a place for the living.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Me (author Lo) writing tags was like:
> 
> Me: Just remember Jason returns!  
> Also me: hah but while you know its better bc of cass, they dont know that  
> Me: well-  
> Also me: for all they know, he could be wor- hey, what if Jason smashed the piano when he came back-  
> Me: STOP NO PLEASE
> 
> Me (kontent): that's actually not a bad idea-
> 
> b this reads like FF.net ANs and i fucking hate it. i was gonna delete this how could you.


End file.
